


Good Enough

by casstayinmyass



Category: Platoon (1986)
Genre: Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Chris Is Confused tm, Contemplative, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Letters, M/M, Pining, Sad, Tragic Romance, Vietnam War, Vignettes, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 03:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Chris felt strange-- as if with every passing moment, he floated deeper into a dream sequence. It's as if they had abandoned the war, in this little foxhole of theirs, and the enemy was a myth to laugh over. The divide of rank that he felt between him and Elias out in the jungle, blurred with every breath.Elias' smile made him feel dizzy, but that was okay.





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Gays. My gay sons. (oh well Chris is bi in my mind but yeah) 
> 
> This probably reads like a book of poetry but. Have fun with the feels.

_They say when men die, they look like scared little boys, Grandma._

_I don’t think much about death, only that it comes for everyone, and it comes fast. I don’t think you have much time to look like much of anything when you die... just up. Looking up isn't the worst out here, for the record-- the stars are indescribable in a letter. You just have to be there._

_Yours,_

_Chris_

 

Nobody really understood why he'd volunteered. He had given up explaining it to people, since everyone just laughed at him when he did. They laughed at how he was dumb enough to give up school to come sleep in the mud for people who didn't even want him over there. Chris' sense of justice held strong, though. Why did all the poor kids get drafted when the rich could pay their way out?

Lerner called him a rich man playing poor, but back home, Chris felt like the opposite.

 

A kid named Gardner kept hanging around Chris. Chris couldn’t tell if he was just nervous or if he was a genuinely friendly person, but he didn’t seem to be right for the Nam. Chris felt bad for judging him like that… it was a little hypocritical.

 

Everything Chris did gave him pause. He was naturally contemplative, analytical of everything around him, and maybe that also meant he wasn’t good for the Nam, but he had managed so far. Analyzing was a way to stay human. If he looked at a brush of leaves and called it green, he was grounded. The dirt is black. The snakes are white. The water is brown. Sergeant Elias Grodin of Chris’ infantry’s lips were nice to look at.

So, maybe he hadn’t told anyone that part. There was no use panicking over it, he deduced, after three days of panicking, there were better things to panic about. Like red ants, and the fact that they were at war. Elias didn’t seem to panic about anything… he was always cool, always kept a level head. Maybe that was a side effect of being in three wars before this one.

People forget that fact about Elias. When they think of veterans, they think of men like Barnes, hardened in their grizzly scars, prickly personality, and overall unpleasantness. They forget people like Elias exist, who haven’t grizzled the same way, exactly—where men like Barnes internalize their horror and let it poison them from the inside out, men like Elias realize that the world’s got problems, and that shit’s not going to change. It’s the little differences… each day, men like Elias walk a little slower. Their smiles a little more forced, and maybe they take a little too long to rise in the morning.

Barnes calls it weakness. He calls Elias a water-walker. Why is it a crime to try and do better?

The sergeant smiled at Chris for the third time that day, but looked away before Chris could return it.

_I don’t understand it, Grandma. He's so beautiful._

That felt good.

_Dear Elias,_

_I want to kiss you._

Chris burned both letters.

 

After O’Neill successfully humiliated them through a day’s work of emptying the latrines, Crawford and King took Chris to the Underworld. Chris didn’t know what to do—he felt awkward, almost as if he was a child brought along to dad’s office party. But the mood diffused the tension. It was obvious no one in this room was going to give Chris shit for anything. Not a thing.

“What’re you doing in the Underworld, Taylor?” Rhah asked.

King’s hand on his shoulder reassured him.

“This here ain’t Taylor. Taylor been shot, this here’s Chris.”

A face looked over from the corner, and Chris just about swallowed his own tongue. Elias waved. He was bare chested, high on something good that Chris felt obligated to try, and the strength with which that grin washed over him almost knocked him over.

“Go ahead old man, smoke it,” King encouraged, and he did.

Chris felt strange-- as if with every passing moment, he floated deeper into a dream sequence. It's as if they had abandoned the war, in this little foxhole of theirs, and the enemy was a myth to laugh over. The divide of rank that he felt between him and Elias out in the jungle, when they had their packs and their jackets on, carrying ammo, blurred with every breath of second hand dope smoke he inhaled.

Elias' smile made him feel dizzy.

"First time?"

It had been a long time since anyone had asked Chris that. He imagined Elias was asking it differently, and smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Then the worm has definitely turned for you, man. Feel good?”

 His voice was like motherfucking honey.

“Yeah, I…” Chris barely heard himself speak. “I don’t feel any pain in my neck.”

“Feeling good’s good enough.” He loaded a shotgun, and all Chris could do was watch. “Put your mouth on this.”

 

Chris doesn’t remember a thing. Well—very small pieces.

Elias is dancing with that kid from California... Crawford. They're dancing close, and Chris is confused. Why is Elias so close to that guy?

The tall, thin man looks over Crawford’s shoulder, and Chris is captivated by his eyes. They’re naturally seductive, intense, and Chris can’t breathe. What do they mean?

 

Crawford was dishonorably discharged, for indecent conduct. Elias tried to beg them off the poor kid's case, but as much as it pained him, he had to lay off or face suspicion and possibly the same fate. Chris thought it was shitty. He wondered why the military still cared-- they needed all the boys they could scrounge up out here.

 

Chris knew he might die the next day. If he did, he’d never had a chance to talk to Elias properly. He wanted to.

“Stars are real pretty,” he commented, taking a seat next to Elias.

“There’s no right or wrong in ‘em,” Elias nodded, sighing softly. Chris stared at his profile, and down to his lips.

“Are you queer?”

The question was mortifying. Chris nearly had heart failure when he realize he had asked it out loud. Elias didn’t react. He didn’t even break a sweat as he answered:

“Yeah. So?”

“You…” Chris tried to think of something to follow up with. He wished he could be so open about his own sexuality, but… god, Elias was fearless. “You see what happened to Crawford?” Dumb question, dumbass. Of course he saw.

“Wish I could’ve done something more.”

“You… you love him?”

Elias rolled his head. “Nah. And he didn’t love me. It was just…” he gestured vaguely, “It just was.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So. You gonna tell on me?” Elias smiled. It was a sad smile, and Chris felt ashamed for something he hadn’t even done yet, or planned to do.

“No, man. I’m not gonna tell.” Chris shifted. “Just… what if they found out? What if Barnes found out?”

"You mean what if Staff Sergeant Barnes found out I was a homosexual?" Elias tilted his head, reasoning it out. "Barnes has got enough reason to hate me, I don't think this would tip the scales much. I think his mentality is, if you can fight, it don't matter if you fuck your sister, you get out in that field and die like the rest of us. But I could be wrong." He shrugged. "He could hate queers more than he hates Charlie. I never can tell with that man." He side eyed the younger man. "You, on the other hand, I can read like a book." Chris' heart rate spiked. It was practically hammering out of his chest.  

"You can?"

"Oh yeah." Elias smiled. "What's bothering ya, kid?"

"Thought you could read me." Chris tried to be smart about it, because he knew he could get away with it with Elias.

“How long have you known?”

“Known?” Chris asked, his voice betraying him. Elias turned his head.

“Known you were too.”

Chris looked down, then up, then away… really, anywhere that wasn’t Elias.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone either.”

Chris swallowed. “I never, uh… I don’t know. I just…”

“You just were,” Elias nodded. “I understand.”

“I like girls too. Just not many. I don’t know what that means.” Chris shook his head, leaning his head back against the tree they were sharing. “So. You just knew, huh? Just from looking at me?”

“I’ll put it this way. If you’d been looking at Barnes or O’Neill the way you've been looking at me since you got here, you’d be stuck halfway up a tree somewhere with your helmet shoved up your ass.” Chris grimaced, and they both laughed a little.

“I guess I’m not that subtle.”

Elias shrugged. “Don’t be. Forget about the mask. Life’s too short-- it’ll kill ya.”

Chris sucked in a breath, and felt warmth spread through his chest. It made him happy seeing Elias so peaceful, so at one with nature. He wanted to take a picture of him like this.

“What?” Elias smirked.

Chris tentatively leaned forward. To an onlooker with unfortunate timing, he might have looked ridiculous, a little like a giraffe with his neck out. Elias watched, lips tugging up, and filled in the blanks, reaching forward and pressing their lips together. Chris forgot he was in Vietnam. He forgot he was a soldier, that they could be shot any minute; he was just connecting, with the most beautiful soul he’d ever encountered. Again, and again, and again…

He couldn’t speak when they parted. He only knew that this was the one thing he wanted, and he cursed the war for standing in the way of it.

Elias stroked his cheek, and pressed another kiss to his forehead, lips sliding up until his chin was resting there, staring up. Chris put a hand on Elias’ chest, and initiated another kiss, and the two lazily made out like that, lips parting and joining until they both just relaxed with the hum of the night bugs, welcome noise for once.

Feeling good was definitely good enough.

“Oh, Taylor?” Chris pulled away to regard Elias’ grin, his slow words rolling over him like waves. “I didn’t know a god damn thing. I guess I was just hopeful.” Chris let out a small noise, somewhere between disbelief and bemusement, and Elias kissed him one more time.

 

“Can I go with you?”

Elias looked back at him and winked, and Chris already knew the answer. It was cruel. It was too cruel, and it made Chris want to follow him anyway, but—

“No. I move faster alone.”

Chris couldn’t help it. He followed silently behind the Sergeant, determined, stupidly, to do something to stop bullets from spraying. He wanted to protect Elias. Protect that moment. That feeling. Maybe _he_ was the water walker.

But in the end, fighting stands between what is good and what is real. In the end, there is no peace, or beauty, or fairness among bloodthirsty men. Chris couldn’t do anything but stare as Barnes pulled that trigger… it didn’t make sense. It was senseless. It was war.

 

_They say when you die, you look like a scared little boy, Grandma._

_When Elias lay there, smiling, I didn't see the face of a scared little boy. I saw the face of a man, who knew how to do his duty... but didn't know why._

_Yours,_

 

 

 

 

_Chris_


End file.
